


The Shenanigans of a Blind Vessel

by KC_R



Series: The Blind Vessel [1]
Category: Hollow Knight (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Ghost is here, Grimm and PK aren’t shippy, Grimm’s just his frenemy who’s here to be an ass and occasionally provide comfort, Hornet's got a lisp, M/M, Ouch, Retainers scared of baby sitting in the hallway, The Pure Vessel is baby, The Pure Vessel is blind, The Pure Vessel just being a weird baby, baby is cold give them warmth, baby is doing their best, baby is just vibing, but not for me, call an ambulance, everyone is trying their best but they aren't succeeding, healthy polyamorous relationships, no beta we die like all of the children in the abyss, we’re taking a quick detour through fluff town before we drive directly into the heart of ouch city, we’ve entered ouch town central, wouldn’t it be a shame if I added the major character death tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28843209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KC_R/pseuds/KC_R
Summary: Upon reaching the peak of the Abyss, the vessel now known as the Hollow Knight was permanently blinded by the Wyrm’s glow. When it followed the King’s instructions, and did not respond to anything else, it was decided that this was the one and only Pure Vessel.
Relationships: Dryya/White Lady (Hollow Knight), Grimm & The Pale King (Hollow Knight), Lurien the Watcher/The Pale King (Hollow Knight), Markoth/Xero (Hollow Knight), The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Everyone, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Hornet, The Hollow Knight | Pure Vessel & Siblings, The Pale King/White Lady (Hollow Knight)
Series: The Blind Vessel [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127519
Comments: 158
Kudos: 193





	1. A Peaceful Day in the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dryya and the Queen enjoy some alone time in the gardens. A small, silent intruder interrupts them.

When she was accepted into the royal guard, she expected to be defending the Queen with her life daily. She remembered the stories of brave knights sacrificing themselves to protect their kings and queens she was told as a hatchling, and from the moment she heard these tales she knew she wanted to be the one in those stories. What she did not expect, of course, was to be living the life she was now. Only twice had she had to fight against actual threats, and once he had to use her blade to cut a way through a particularly thick patch of thorns in the Queen’s Gardens.

What she hadn’t expected, when she joined the royal guard, was to be sitting in a pristine garden for most of her day. The Queen kneeled, patiently tending to the thousands of flowers that decorated the almost impossibly large area. She had urged Dryya to take a seat next to her, but Dryya refused. At least at first, she did, but when the Queen ensured her that the palace was secure, and nudged her gently with her vines, Dryya eventually acquiesced and kneeled next to the Queen of Hallownest. 

The Queen had long since finished tending to the flowers, choosing to sit and enjoy the silence instead of moving on to the next patch. It had become normal, by now, that Dryya could be completely vulnerable in the Queen’s garden, wearing less armor than she usually did, blade holstered as the Queen’s bright blue eyes drifted across the many blooms before landing on her. She followed the Queen’s gaze but avoided eye contact so that she could keep up her guard duty. But once again, the Queen’s vines nudged the side of her face, pulled her attention to her and their eyes met. Those beautiful eyes, blue like the bright, sapphire brooch attached to the collar of her dress. 

“Which do you find the prettiest?” The White Lady asks as she gently lifts the petals of one flower. Dryya pretends to think about it for a moment, though she already knows the answer

“Well if I had to choose one plant that I found the prettiest, it would certainly be you, my Queen.” She says, doing her best to keep up her Knightley stance.

“I thought the roses were your favorite.” The Queen asks, either oblivious to the compliment her guard had just given her or purposely ignoring it. 

“No my Queen. I will admit that that answer was a lie. I am not very experienced with flowers, the rose was the only one I knew.” She says. The Queen takes up her hand in one of her vines.

“Do you truly believe I am the prettiest in this garden? I personally think the wisteria is the prettiest but I suppose everyone has their own likes and dislikes.” Her focus is no longer on the plants and is now exclusively on her. The loving gaze in those shining eyes. Apparently, she had picked up on her compliment. Gentle vines lifted her so that her gaze was equal to the Queen’s. She leaned toward the pleasant warmth that the White Lady radiated. Their moment was interrupted by a silent onlooker. 

The White Lady, perhaps sensing their presence through her roots and leaves, gently put Dryya back on the ground. The Pure Vessel is standing at the edge of the garden, mud and thorns on their body from them presumably walking through a thorny bush.  
“Ah, hello. I apologize, I did not see you there.” The Queen apologizes as if the vessel before her has any semblance of thought. Its head slowly tilts backward until its black, hollow eyes are staring at the Queen’s. It’s cloak is stained, caked with mud, along with a small amount of some black substance, it will surely need to be cleaned or replaced (especially due to the black substance. No matter how hard they try, it never comes off clothes).

“Are you looking for Wyrm? I presume he's in his workshop. I did not know you woke up this early.” Dryya underestimated how little the Queen knew about the vessel. She doesn’t even know that it does not sleep, instead choosing to sit with its back against the wall of its room like a life-sized doll. Perhaps that was sleep to it, but when it had just hatched and Dryya had watched it, the moment it sat upon its bed and put its back to the headboard, it stopped moving until the King told it to move again. The Pure Vessel, so small and child-like, slowly tilts it's head as if it misunderstood a command.

“No? Has my Wyrm sent you to train with Dryya?” The Queen asks. The vessel once again makes no movements. “Or has he sent you to relax in the gardens? I do understand the need to relax after a session of training, even constructs such as yourself. If you have come to relax, then you are welcome to take a seat and admire the flowers.” As soon as she says this, the vessel falls backward, landing on its rear. Apparently, this was intentional as they do not attempt to get back to their feet. The Queen giggles as it slowly turns its head from side to side, observing the flowers as instructed.

Dryya isn’t sure what the Queen finds cute in it, it acts and behaves robotically. Only once had it ever made her laugh when it had tried to focus in one of their duels and ended up falling over from the off-balance of its heavy head. Suddenly she feels a warmth press against the top of her head and she momentarily lets her stoic personality slip as she becomes embarrassed from the contact of the Queen’s lips to her forehead. 

Thankfully, before the Pure Vessel’s gaze returns to them, she has managed to fix her behavior. The Pure Vessel gets to its feet. For a moment, Dryya hopes that it is leaving, but unfortunately, it walks straight towards them. Her hand moves to the handle of her blade, but instead of drawing its blade (which Dryya now realizes is missing from both it’s holster and its hand), it grabs onto the sides of the Queen’s leg and attempts to pull itself up. The Queen giggles softly, and for a moment Dryya can pretend that the Pure Vessel is a child. 

The Queen’s gentle vines lift the small construct and bring it to her lap, where it fits perfectly as if it was made to sit there. Its posture slumps and it leans against her chest as Dryya frowns at the realization that the Queen surely has mud on her dress now. Nothing has changed with the addition of the small vessel, perhaps she can still enjoy the quiet of the gardens. Much to her dismay, she too soon falls asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Formerly known as “A Peaceful Day in the Garden”, I wrote a second part and then decided I would add more. And also, not mentioned in this chapter and probably not for another few, the Pure Vessel cannot see anything. (Inspired by Chipper-Smol’s blind!pure vessel post on tumblr)


	2. Gifts in Hand, Wandering Through the Halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While waiting for her Queen to emerge from the King's workshop, the vessel appears.

There were a few places that Dryya was not allowed to enter, even with the Queen at her side. The King’s workshop, of course, was one of those places. Today like any other, she stood at attention before the door to the workshop. The black, metal door stuck out like a sore thumb, and every noblebug and retainer who walked past walked past quickly. Hell, Dryya was sure that even the Kingsmolds were unnerved by that room.

And so she stood as the Queen and King were in the workshop. Perhaps they were talking about the recent drama with the nobles, or perhaps they were talking about the constant rainfall of the Capital. Maybe the King was working on a solution for that very problem. Maybe he was developing a formula that would stop Orgim from smelling so awful (when Ogrim returned, that is. She hadn’t seen him in several days, which was very unlike the loyal beetle.)

She was snapped out of her thoughts by a sound. Her gaze lifted to see the Pure Vessel standing in the hallway in front of her. It had something in its hand and was once again missing it’s nail (she was sure that Isma had been taking it off them when they went to bed). It began approaching her, before once again stopping several paces away from her. She would never tell the Queen this, but the vessel greatly unnerved her. Something about its emotionless gaze and how strange it acted when outside the presence of the King. Every time she thought of it, she remembered the nights spent watching over it, watching it lean against the wall for hours upon hours like an oversized doll.

Its cloak was wet, meaning it had either walked through the shallow pond in the Queen’s Garden, or it had somehow gotten out and went up to the Capital. Its other hand was dragging a bush, undoubtedly torn out of the garden. It looked up and down the hall, it’s head slowly turning back and forth, and then back and forth again as if making sure it didn’t miss anything. It started walking forward again and Dryya stepped out of the way. It paused for a moment when she stepped, and then it resumed its path. There was a loud clunk as it’s large head collided with the door. The bush and the crumpled piece of parchment it had been holding fell to the ground as it took a step back, looking up at the door that it had apparently missed, before turning its attention to Dryya. It extended one of its arms and hesitantly reached forward. Its hands found her leg and it grabbed her. It pulled, perhaps in an attempt to get her to open the door.

“Unhand me, vessel.” She seethed, shaking her leg in hopes of getting the small knight to let go. That did the opposite of what she wanted, as it tightened its grip. Dryya was sure that its body temperature had dropped even further than usual. She shivered, it felt like her entire leg was frozen solid. 

“I said unhand me!” She yelled, grabbing onto the vessel’s midsection and yanking it off. It went completely limp in her arms, and when she placed it back on the ground it crumpled into a pile. This was something it often did when bested in battle, but this was usually followed by its shade emerging. Instead, it remained a crumpled mass. Oh, fuck, oh gods. She had done it now. Had she been too forceful when pulling it off? Was it injured from the water it had been in? Was it dead? Why was it just lying on the floor in a pile? Why wasn’t its shade emerging?

“Vessel?” She asked as if it could respond. She poked at its mask with the tip of her blade. It made no movements, showed no signs of ever being alive. “Oh, gods I broke the Hollow Knight! What have I done?” She muttered. 

As if on cue, the Pale King exited his chambers to see his Queen’s knight in tears, standing over the crumpled form of the Pure Vessel. 

“Dryya what happened to the vessel?” The King asked, his voice mystical and terrifying. 

“I don’t know, it grabbed my leg and when I pried it off it just went limp.” She explained, stepping away from the pile of knight and allowing the King to examine it. He grabbed one of its horns and lifted it off the ground, and just as before it hung limply from his grasp. 

“How odd.” He muttered, lowering the vessel until its feet touched the ground. And like magic, the vessel stood, and then a moment later it returned to its bush and paper and tried to walk into the workshop again, slamming its head into the door a second time.

“Come here, vessel. Let me see what you have.” The King ordered, and the vessel approached him before extending its arms, holding out the bush and the piece of paper. Without hesitation, the King gently pulled the piece of parchment from the vessel’s tiny hands before uncrumpling it and holding it before him. Composed of two layers of ink, one was simply scribbles made from black ink, and the other but was the outline of the vessel’s horns and face drawn in red ink. The drawing was labeled “Hollow”, and right next to it “Hornet”. 

“Did Hornet draw this?” The King asked. The Knight’s head slowly tilted back until their gazes met. It made no response. “I see, I see. Well, we must return it to her immediately. I doubt you would like to suffer the wrath of an angry weaverling princess.” The King said dryly, offering his hand to the vessel. It grabbed his hand with both of its, letting go of the bush.

And just like that, the two left, leaving Dryya extremely confused as to what happened. A moment later, the Queen exited the workshop. “I hope you had an exciting time in the hallway.” She says in her warm, gentle voice. Oh, how Dryya wished she could have anything other than an exciting time in the hallways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My idea with the vessel going limp after being roughhoused originates from the idea that it allows the shade to exit the vessel's body better. The Pure Vessel is expecting their shade to leave due to Dryya violently wrenching them off of her leg.


	3. Late to a Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pair of royal retainers run into an unfortunate roadblock that causes them to be late for their meeting

They were late! The brothers had overslept, and their meeting with the king started in only a few minutes! As quickly as they could, they threw on their outfits and rushed out of their rooms. It was not befitting of loyal, royal retainers to run, so they simply walked as fast as they could.

Left turn, right turn, past the crossroad, a right at the fork. They would both have to skip out on breakfast this morning, not to mention it was likely all eaten by now. Especially if the princess of Deepnest was here. Another right turn, and then they stopped in their tracks.

The lumafly lanterns of this hallway had gone out, all except the very last one, casting an eerie light down upon the short figure standing silently in the doorway. The vessel had its back to them, staring forward and showing no signs that it had heard them. 

“Brother! What’s stopped you? We must hurry!” The younger retainer asked. The oldest put his finger to his mandibles and pointed down the hallway at the looming figure and his brother went silent.

“The meeting rooms just to the right of there, we can just push past the thing.” The younger brother whispered. 

“No! Are you crazy? That thing has bested even the greatest knights of this kingdom in battle! I heard a rumor that it took on all five of the Great Knights with a blindfold on. It’s best we not perturb it.” The eldest brother whispered. To an extent that rumor was true, even if no one knew it yet. 

“Yes, b-but it wouldn’t hurt us! We aren’t even armed, we just need to ask it to pass.” The younger said, still hopeful that they could get to their meeting in time. 

“No, I heard a rumor that, when it was born, it killed and ate all of its hatchmates. It would tear us apart. We need to take another route.” The brother whispered, grabbing their brothers arm to pull him away from the hallway. The youngest brother squeaked in fear before speed-walking away after their brother. 

Distantly, the vessel thought they heard a sound, perhaps the squeak of a crawler that had gotten inside the palace. They’d handle it later though, as for now they were listening to the calming buzz of the lumaflies. They only wished they could see it, as if it looked as calming as it sounded, they were sure they would instantly fall asleep. They already felt like they were on their way to sleep, but they couldn’t fall asleep.

They shook their head, for a moment seeing the abyss again. Thousands of broken skulls and a sea of blood. And then, the darkness returned. Even if they weren’t there, they could still hear the whispers of their siblings, pleas to be released, promises of the return of their eyes. It was very tempting, but they had a duty to uphold, they had to protect the palace from dangers, like the crawler they had heard earlier, or their siblings, who haunted their dreams and mind, who threatened to break out of the abyss and who encouraged them to kill the King for his crimes against them.

The vessel shook their head again, pulled the lantern off of the ceiling, hoping to take it and the sound with them, but instead freed all the lumaflies. That was okay, they had a new gift to show Hornet. They rushed away to put it where they put everything else, and then after they’d search the palace for danger. Thanks to them, today would be another peaceful day.


	4. A Source of Warmth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dryya and the Queen enjoy some music, and are promptly interrupted by the Pure Vessel. Dryya comes to a realization.

Days like these were her favorite. Dryya sat next to the Queen, surrounded by noble bugs in obnoxious perfumes and jewelry that clinked and clanked with every step they made. But that was okay because she got to sit next to the Queen, gently holding one of her roots, as they listened to the Songstress Marissa sing.

Next to Marissa, of course, was her long-term girlfriend Emilita. Marissa was kind, caring, sang at charity events, and donated a large portion of her money to the less fortunate, while Emilita was the most pretentious, greediest, and self-centered noble bug in the whole kingdom. For years the nobles made bets on how much longer their relationship would last, but to everyone’s surprise, they stayed together. It seemed that the only thing Emilita loved more than herself was Marissa, if only barely.

Emilita played the piano while Marissa sang, their two songs forming a beautiful melody that calmed Dryya’s constant urge to punch someone. It also soothed her worries about the Pure Vessel. More often did it grapple onto people, and she sometimes saw it dragging swords, thorny bushes, dead prey animals from the Basin, and once she witnessed it dragging an entire table (presumably taken from one of the retainer’s offices). Their actions could be indicators that they aren’t hollow, and if the King learned of this, he would interrogate her, and if he learned that she had kept information from him, she would certainly be excecuted. Or worse, barred from seeing the Queen again.

But, for now, at least, none of that mattered. She was next to the love of her life, listening to the best performers in Hallownest. The Queen let out a sweet sigh. “Ah, I couldn’t imagine spending my life playing music with my best friend. It must truly be wonderful to do so.” She said blissfully, imagining a life with a roommate, despite being a Queen married to a literal god.

“My Queen, I do believe they’re partners, a little more than best friends,” Dryya whispered back.

“Oh.” The Queen said like she hadn’t seen them kiss at the last royal ball. “For how long? I thought they were just very good friends.” Dryya is impressed that she managed to hold in her laughter.

“Several years, my lady. Their relationship has been the center of the noble drama for almost a decade.” She explained. The White Lady rubbed her chin in thought.

“I suppose I’m not as up to date on the gossip as I thought.” She muttered to herself

“And next you’ll tell me that we are merely good friends?” Dryya teased. To that, the Queen let out a soft chuckle. This was what she put up with the noble drama for, this is what she stood at attention for almost every second of every day. To hear the Queen laugh, to hear her happy, was the best thing she could ever receive. She nearly kissed the Queen right then and there, in front of all of the nobles. That would certainly create rumors, rumors that she didn’t want to start. But how could she help it? The Queen was so beautiful. 

The moment was ruined, as always, when the Pure Vessel walked into the room. They had grown better at using doors, and now had free reign over the entire palace. Their mask and cloak were covered in splotches and streaks of the staining black fluid. Their entire outfit would need to be replaced, and their mask would need to be scrubbed until all of it was gone. The vessel stopped moving as soon as it entered the room, staring in the direction of the two musicians. Apparently, no one else saw them, and they continued to linger silently. 

“Excuse me for a moment,” Dryya said before getting to her feet and approaching the vessel. It made no response to her approach as it usually did, instead continuing to stare forward at the source of the music. It must not have been able to hear her over it, but it should have been able to see her. She waved her hands in front of its face, made movements to grab the blade off its back, but it responded to none of them. Then she poked it in its eyehole. It startled, like it hadn’t known she was there, before falling backward and cracking its skull against the floor.

This got everyone’s attention, and Dryya was quick to pick the vessel up and step out of the room for a moment. She carefully set it on the ground, as the King had done several moons prior. Once it was standing again, it started rubbing the sides of its head as if in pain.

More black fluid began leaking out of its eye holes as it tried to pull on its horns. Dryya reaches out and grabbed the vessel. It froze, and then it focused on her. Not on her, but in her direction. It clicked, suddenly, that something might be wrong with the vessel. Perhaps the dark fluid had filled its eyes? Could it no longer see? She picked it up and it wrapped its arms around her midsection, at least as much as it could with its short arms. The King would surely execute her if he saw the vessel hugging her, or if he knew how the Queen had treated the vessel in the garden. She licked her thumb and scrubbed the dark liquid off of its face to the best of her ability, and then she reentered the room.

The music had resumed; and while the nobles had their eyes glued on her, the vessel was at least preoccupied listening to the peaceful melody. She took her seat next to the Queen, pretending to not hear the whispers and murmurs of the bugs around her. Dryya could already imagine the gossip. Who was this small creature? What were they? Were they the child of the Great Knight Dryya? Or were they the child of the Queen and King? Surely they would be expecting a coronation soon, or at least a public announcement. She felt a tang of guilt knowing that neither would ever come, that the only thing this “child” was destined for was the temple the King was constructing on the surface.

“Is the vessel okay?” The Queen asked, her concern heavy in her voice.

“They don’t appear to be hurt, but they did hit their head rather hard. I’ll be keeping a close eye on it in case it develops a concussion.” She explains, quickly and quietly. The White Lady observes the knight before nodding. 

The vessel never takes its face out of her chest, and instead, it just hugs tighter. If it is blind, then she truly feels sorry for it. Trapped in a winding palace of cold and metal, but for now, she can pretend they are a child. A poor child, lost and confused, their only comfort coming from the music, played by the people it will die for, snuggled into the embrace of the very people who will bring its end.


	5. The End is in Sight (But We Can’t Quite See It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dryya comes to a realization.

The vessel had been acting strange since it had first been ordered to protect the White Palace. Dryya had managed to at least put those two things together. Now, she was silently following the vessel as it dragged half of a crawler through the halls, the trail of hemolymph it left behind looking like there had been a murder. 

The vessel was headed towards the kitchen, likely looking for the young weaverling Princess. She would always wrap up whatever “gifts” it brought her. Did it know that she wasn’t here today? Did it know that she left? Did it know that she likely wouldn’t return before it was sealed?

Dryya shook the thoughts out of her head focusing back on the vessel as it dropped the crawler on the floor of the kitchen, followed by it turning around and walking out. She was only a few paces away from it, and yet it ignored her and kept walking, which would make sense if it couldn’t see.

But it didn’t make sense! How could it be blind when it had functioned perfectly all week? How was it still just as powerful in battle? The vessel obviously could hear, it could be using its hearing to figure out where they were and where they were going. But it still didn’t make sense, there should have been some sort of response if it had lost its sight halfway through the week. Perhaps it had been blind longer? Could it ever see? The vessel made a quick turn around a corner and knocked into a retainer, knocking the retainer’s headdress off and knocking the vessel to the ground. Dryya quickly approached to make sure nothing bad happened, but, to her surprise, the retainer seemed too scared to move in the presence of the vessel. It simply grabbed the fallen headdress, and walked away.

The retainer looked like they were about to say something, until Dryya walked around the corner. “Knight! I request that you retrieve my—“

“I’m on it, I don’t want to hear whatever story you’ve cooked up,” Dryya growled, following after the vessel as it walked down the hallway. It stood as close to the wall as it could without touching it, and occasionally walked into doorways only to step out a moment later. The route ended at an empty room, and the vessel quickly stepped inside, followed by the sounds of metal crashing.

She rushed inside, slamming the door open, only to see piles and piles of random objects. A collection of nails, the desk, several helmets, a few wingsmolds, a collection of sharp kitchen utensils, and a decommissioned Kingsmold. It froze in place as she entered the room. “Vessel, what is the meaning of this?” She asked, voice far too harsh to be speaking to the equivalent of a child. It slowly turned toward her, still holding the headdress. 

“Vessel. I asked you a question.” She reminded. The vessel slowly approached, and when it got close enough it jabbed the headdress into her leg. Not enough to leave a mark but enough to hurt. She grabbed the vessel by the horn, raising it off the ground for attacking her. The headdress clattered to the ground. 

Something clicked in her mind. If the vessel could not see, and it was ordered to protect the palace, how would it have known what to protect it from? The stolen items made sense, they were all sharp, and with the vessel blindly wandering the halls, it surely bumped into a lot of things, and if what it bumped into hurt it, then that object must be dangerous.

She felt a stab of guilt in her chest, it hadn’t meant to hurt her. She placed it back on the ground, and it immediately rushed to wrap its arms around her leg, as she had done when she had hurt it. Yep, this was it. Dryya, the Great Knight and personal Knight of the Queen herself was about to cry from being hugged by a toddler. 

But now she had a bigger problem, she would have to inform the King that, not only was the vessel blind, but it was impure. And she would have to tell him that it was her fault. She was going to be executed, hung at the center of the Capital for all to see, she would be labeled as a traitor because of an impulsive action she had performed. 

She would have to accept her fate, had to report the incident to the King. It was either she would be executed as a traitor, or she would risk the lives of hundreds and thousands of bugs. And what would become of the vessel? It had been the only one of its hatchmates to survive, all the rest had either died before they hatched or died attempting to climb, and due to the dangers of void, any who survived both of those would still be sealed in the Abyss, doomed to starve to death. This was the only one, the first and last. Would it, too, be executed? Would it be returned to the Abyss? Would they be used as a temporary solution to the Infection? 

It didn’t matter. What were the sacrifices of two bugs compared to the deaths of thousands more? She pried the vessel from her leg and held it to her chest, carrying them both to their death at the hands of the King, all lying behind the black, metal door of the workshop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not too happy with this chapter, I feel like I rushed it. I hope you enjoyed though.


	6. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of delaying this chapter for a day or two to make sure it was perfect, but I think it is as good as I can make it.

What. The. FUCK!

The Pale King was angry beyond words. The moment he found out, he cast the evidence into the flames of the fireplace and immediately went to his wife, the White Lady. She must’ve been able to sense that he was angry through her roots.

“My dear Wyrm, what ails you?” The White Lady asked.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. I know what you did.” He hissed.

“Whatever do you mean, my love?” The Queen asked, playing dumb. It didn’t work.

“You know exactly what I mean. You washed my dress cloak along with Hornet’s cloak and now it’s pink! I can’t go to dinner with Lurien in a pink cloak!” The King whined. The Queen let out a sweet laugh before lifting her handheld husband with her smallest roots. “My lady, you should know that this is high treason. I cannot look a fool at my first date with the Watcher, not after all I have done to get his eyes upon me.”

“Worry not my dearest. Did you check for your spare dress cloak? You can always borrow one of the younger retainer uniforms if you must.” She cooed. Apparently, this made her husband embarrassed as he covered his face with his hands. 

“I’m sure I have a spare cloak, and you know that the retainer uniforms are too large for me. I do not wish to be present in public wearing oversized robes.” He muttered. 

Suddenly, the door to the Queen’s room burst open as Dryya entered. 

“My King!” She announced. She was carrying the Pure Vessel and her armor was covered in void, as was the vessel's mask. 

“What is it, Dryya? Is there something wrong with the vessel?” The King asked. Now he was worried, his entire kingdom relied on this vessel! If they lost it permanently, there was no hope.

“Sir, the vessel is not pure, and I have reason to believe that it is blind as well.” The King senses fear in her voice.

“What do you mean the vessel’s not pure? It cannot feel, has no voice to speak, it is most certainly pure.” The King explained. He was confident in himself, he had done all of the calculations, hundreds of moons, if not thousands, spent making sure that the vessel would be pure. There was no way it wasn’t. He couldn’t have failed, but he still felt dread slowly rising in his throat.

“It’s not pure, it desires warmth, it collects objects from around the palace, it responds to touch and it feels pain. My King, the vessel is not pure at all.” Dryya explained.

The King let out a tired sigh. “My dearest Root, would you mind giving us a moment of privacy to speak of this matter?” He requested. Dryya felt like she was going to throw up, and darkness scratched at the corners of her vision. The King was about to execute her right then and there, in his and the Queen’s bedroom. 

“Of course my love. Shall I look for your extra suit while I am out?” The Queen asked.

“No thank you, I think I will have to cancel my meeting with the Watcher. Please send for him and ask if we can move it forward a week or so?” He requested. The White Lady nodded before exiting, leaving Dryya and the Wyrm alone. 

“Hand me the vessel, I shall determine if it is truly impure,” Wyrm said, holding out his hands and taking the vessel out of Dryya’s. “What events have unfolded that have convinced you it is impure? And for how long have you believed it to be?” 

“I believe it to have been several months, maybe even a year. Earlier today it showed remorse over injuring me with a stolen headdress, and a few moons before it reacted as if in pain when it hit its head.” Dryya explained.

“So, you believe this to be a recent occurrence? That someone taught it to think?” The King asked as he examined the toddler-sized vessel in his hands.

“Yes. I don’t mean to sound traitorous, but it very well could have been you, or the Queen, one of the retainers, or the Princess, or…” She swallowed down the bile in her throat. “It could have been me. I made an impulsive decision when I witnessed it hit its head. I picked it up and carried it as a mother would. I very well believe this could be my fault. I am sorry my King.” Dryya said. It felt like a weight had lifted off her chest, but it was simply replaced by another as the ice-cold stare of the King’s black eyes stared into her. 

“I will certainly have to run some tests. As for you, Dryya, you must go to the Tower of Love in the Capital. There you will meet Ogrim, and you will stay there until further notice.” Dryya felt her heart sink. She was right in her worries, she was going to be executed. The Tower of Love was a newly constructed government building. No one, not even the King’s closest servants and guards, knew what it contained. 

“My King, what’re they going to do to me? What happened to Ogrim? I know I have committed treason but I promise I didn’t mean to!” She began to realize the consequences of her confession. She didn’t want to die, she still had so much life left to live!

She hadn’t even ever told the Queen how much she loved her.

“What are you talking about? What treason? Ogrim became deathly ill from void poisoning, I would hate to lose one of my loyal Knights to it.” The King explained.

“Wha—? Void poisoning? I haven’t…” No, she has indeed been in contact with void. It was covering her armor, and she may have even ingested some when she cleaned the vessel mask. “But! But I ruined your perfect vessel! How is that not treason?” 

The Pale King sighed, both extra pairs of hands fidgeting under his cloak. “I didn’t know if the vessel would be perfect, it was only a hope. If the vessel is impure, then it was never pure to begin with.” He explained. Dread fully washed over him now. All he had done had been for not. The pain of casting the eggs into the Abyss, the tears cried over stillborn after stillborn. With his statistics, there should have only been one vessel that survived, and that vessel could not save Hallownest.

“I will have to find another solution, if the vessel truly isn’t pure. I can still attempt to find a solution in what remains of the moth tribe, or I could contact the Nightmare King and attempt to find a solution there.” He adds. “Until then, you must reside at the Tower of Love, or at least until we can confirm you no longer are ill, and I shall take the vessel with me. If it turns out to not be as pure as we thought, then… I do not know. I will decide later.” And with that, the King walked away from Dryya, holding the “Pure” Vessel as it gently leaned its head against his chest. Damn it. He had failed not only his people, but also his Root, the Watcher, the Teacher, the Beast, and however many statistical anomalies had been born in the depths of the Abyss. The Dreamer plan had all been for not.

He briskly walked to his workshop, pushing open the heavy metal door, and placing the vessel on the lone table before all but collapsing onto his chair. The room was filled with the shells and armor of Kingsmolds and Wingsmolds, along with several bottles of void stacked on a shelf, and several lumafly lanterns hung from the ceiling in an attempt to counterbalance the darkness. It hadn’t worked, every lumafly had long since been reduced to a black mush. He had once tried to save one of them, pluck them out of the soup of their decaying brethren. As soon as he got it out, it burst into void. When he had started using the void, he had used his bare hands. That was, evidently, a mistake, as he was permanently stained by it. On the far side of the room stood multiple spools of soul infused silk, as well as a large jar of void, and the mold. 

This entire room was a graveyard, the memories of countless nights spent watching over a single egg at a time, only for it to hatch and the child inside to come out a rotten pile of goo. Because of him, both Dryya and Ogrim had become ill from void exposure. Ogrim had been vomiting, hallucinating, and had become incredibly violent. If he hadn’t learned that these symptoms were that of void exposure, he would have assumed Ogrim attacking him was an assassination attempt. 

“How do I even determine if you’re hollow or not?” The King asked himself. The Pure Vessel simply sat still and stared at him, it’s endless black eyes boring a hole through his skull. “Are you hollow? Could you answer me? Nod your head? Say something? Say anything? Or have I truly taken everything from you?” He cried. 

“What am I to do? If you are not hollow then how else have I been wrong? How many of your siblings lived? How high are the corpses piled in the bottom of the Abyss? What sins of mine are huddled together at the floor of the endless sea of darkness? What am I to do with you? I cannot throw you back, not after everything I have done to you, especially not when I know that you are not hollow. I could not father you, I do not have the capability to love so easily as my Root does. Am I and my Kingdom doomed to die from my mistakes? Am I just as bad as her for what I have done? 

He collapsed onto the table and sobbing into his hands. He had spent so many moons trying to find a cure, a solution, anything! He searched through millions of possibilities through his foresight but not once did he find a way to end the suffering of his people.

He felt a cold hand land on the back of his head. It began gently patting him. If it had been his Root, or one of his guards, or anything other than the one creation that was not meant to do this, he would have felt comforted. Instead he simply grabbed the vessel and hugged it to his chest tightly and he cried. It hugged back with all the enthusiasm of a child who couldn’t understand the consequences of his actions.

He cried for a long time before he was ready to start searching for another solution.


	7. Time for Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that the King knows the truth, everything is different

Ever since Dryya had taken them to the King, their entire life had been changed. They no longer had daily training lessons, and were always accompanied by at least one person. Some times it was their father, sometimes it was Xero (Dryya’s apprentice), sometimes it was their mother, sometimes it was one of the Dreamers, sometimes it was Quirrel (Monomon’s assistant), or Lurien’s butler, sometimes it was Hegemol, or Isma, or Ze’mer, or Hornet, or, on rarest of occasions, they would be in the same room as some of the other tribes’ diplomats: Markoth and Thistlewind, or Keiza the Mantis Lord. It was never Dryya or Ogrim. They missed them a lot.

Currently, they were sleeping, as their parents were busy in a meeting with the Dreamers, and then later their father had a meeting with the Moth diplomats. Xero was going to come by later to take them to breakfast. Their bed was full of stuffed toys that their mother had boughten them. 

Several days ago, the two, accompanied by Xero, had walked through the market place, and whenever they had found something with a nice texture, they held it up to their mother, and she would pay for it. She said things like “that’s very beautiful” and “wow, very colorful”, and that made them think, what did those words mean? Were they beautiful? They had heard Dryya call their mother that, and their father had once told an annoyed noble that the palace was indeed colorful (He complained about that a lot, actually. Apparently, everyone said the Palace was only white, while he saw many colors, hundreds if not thousands on the “glimmering” pillars and the “mosaic” ceilings. They wanted to know what those words meant, as well). Were they as beautiful as their mother? Were they colorful like how dad liked everything? Or were they not colorful? Was that why dad was always upset around them? Or why he sometimes cried when they were near him?

It did not matter, for now at least. They always knew where everything was in their room, had felt every rounded corner and every cushioned edge. Their bed was now a pile of soft blankets, silken pillows, and the previously mentioned stuffed toys. Their favorite was a stuffed tiktik, because of its strange texture, and its smooth, cold marble eyes. 

They took it everywhere with them, to the music shows their mother would take them to, on walks with their father through the City. Sometimes Xero would play fun games with them, like feeling roots in their mother’s gardens, or catch the ball (it had a small bell inside that made a nice sound), or Xero would lend them his noisemaker (Apparently all children had noisemakers, and they shook them when they were upset. Hallow was barely ever upset, but they liked the sounds the noisemaker made). 

And another new thing! Their parents had started to call them Hallow! And they even told them how to say it with their hands! They could say many things now, not in the same way their siblings once talked to them, or in the way everyone else talked to them. People didn’t hear their hands, but they read them (whatever “read” means), and it always made their mother happy when they asked questions with their hands, so they made sure to do it a lot! They asked their mother once why their name was Hallow, and their mother had answered “At one point it was believed that Hallownest is your father and I’s greatest treasure, but now we have realized that it is you, so we passed the title of Hallow onto you.” 

They didn’t understand what that meant, but it made them happy.

They were starting to get hungry. They grabbed their tiktik and headed to their door, twisting the handle with their free hand and stepping out into the hallway. They needed to find Xero so that mother and father wouldn’t be worried, so they began wandering the halls.

“Twin.” A familiar voice called out to them. They froze, looking behind them. They still couldn’t see anything. “Help me I can’t hold on any longer please help me please I don’t want to fall please.” They were terrified. They didn’t want to disobey their father, but they needed to help their twin! But if they walked toward the edge they would surely fall, they didn’t even know where it was. They made a decision and walked towards their father. “Please twin please please please please please--” They heard the scratching of claws against metal followed by a deafening crash of chitin against chitin. There wasn’t anything they could do.

“Hallow?” A familiar voice asked. It was Xero. “Are you okay? Oh my, you’re crying. One second, let me get my-- here we are, it’s okay, it’s okay.” The knight whispered as he pressed the soft cloth against their face, rubbing the void tears off. “I was just on my way to get you. Did you have another nightmare?” He asked. Hallow nodded before holding their arms out in the direction that Xero’s voice came from. “Do you want to go get something to eat?” They nodded again. Xero’s smooth hands wrapped around their torso right under their arms and lifted them up. A gentle kiss was placed upon their forehead. “To make all your fears disappear.” He said. They enjoyed being picked up, especially since everyone did it differently. Dryya’s hands were calloused and rough, while their mother’s roots were bumpy and warm, and their father’s hands were cold and soft (likely due to the void that they could sense on his hands). Everyone was so different, and they each had something new to show them. They only hoped they would have the time to get to learn everything. 

They were now moving towards the kitchen. They knew this because they could smell the sweet aroma of meat, vegetables, and sweet rolls. Hornet often recruited them to steal sweet rolls, sending them in first as a distraction before she snuck in and grabbed the whole bowl. And then they’d eat all of them, and they’d get stomach aches, but it was always worth it because the sweet rolls were delicious!

They curled into Xero’s arms and pulled their cloak tightly over them and their tiktik. Their cloak was also new! It was nice and fluffy, but not scratchy or uncomfortable. It felt like a blanket.

“Xero.” Another familiar voice called out. It was Markoth, the moth diplomat. 

“Yes my friend?” Xero asked as they came to a stop. They were gently put on a chair and they laid their small arms on the table, eagerly awaiting their sweet rolls. 

“We need to speak, in private. It’s urgent.” Markoth explained. There was a clink in the distance, followed by footsteps.

“We’re in private right now, and I must watch the child almost all day. If it is urgent, then you must speak it now.” Xero said. There was another set of clinks right in front of them. They knew what that meant… sweet rolls! They eagerly grabbed one of them and brought it to the bottom of their mask to take a bite. The flavor hit their taste buds and they kicked their feet in joy. 

“Xero. You need to stop working, or at least tell the King what’s going on with you. Keeping something like this away from him is not a good idea.” Markoth growled. His tone was serious, just as serious as Dryya always sounded during training.

“I’m not sure what you mean. The King knows about Marmu and about us, I don’t recall—“ 

“I’m talking about the fact that you’re sick. I will not stand to watch you run yourself further and further into the ground because you refuse to stop working. You know you can’t stay awake forever, and the longer you keep your sickness a secret, the worse it will be. Staying awake to avoid the sickness only works as long as you can stay awake. The moment you fall asleep you’ll be too weak to protect yourself. Please, seek help.” Markoth explained, cutting Xero off. Both of them were silent for a long time, and Hallow took the time to shove the rest of the sweet roll under their mask. 

“I suppose you’re right, I’ll go speak to him as soon as he’s out of his meeting.” Xero said solemnly. Oh no! Was Xero also void sick? They didn’t want to lose another friend to void sickness! “Oh! My friend you’ve gotten quite a bit of honey on your face. One second, let me help you with that.” A warm, wet towel was pressed against their face, rubbing away the sticky residue of both their void tears and their delicious breakfast. They had already forgotten what they were upset about, not preoccupied with the nice temperature of the cloth. 

They hoped they would get to see their dad soon, they loved spending time with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I am approaching the time where I could add the major character death tag. Can’t wait :)


	8. One Step Away From the Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are many dreams taking place within the palace tonight. Two of them warn of rotten things to come

There was a knock at the door.

They should have been peacefully tucked into bed, but instead, they were huddled in the corner of their room, clutching their tiktik to their chest. They could hear it, it was right outside, waiting for them to gather the courage to let it in.

Recently, their father had started to become more and more anxious. He was worried about many things, and Hallow felt bad that they were one of the things their father constantly worried about. He had gotten so desperate that he reached out to the Nightmare King, Grimm. They wished Grimm would arrive sooner, maybe he could help them. Hornet was no longer allowed to come over, no matter how much she cried over missing her father and her sibling, it was just too dangerous now. Hallow was now always under the watch of several guards, and their father barely ever left his workshop.

Whenever he left, he often ended up at the door to the Abyss, either curled in a ball crying or pacing while staring at it. He couldn’t bring himself to open it and come face to face with what he’s done. Hallow is glad, if father opened the door, whatever was on the other side would get out. Every time they went close to the door, Hallow could sense the pull of their void and hear the faint whispers of their siblings, screaming, begging to be freed, pressing up against the looming gate. 

If they were freed, they would surely drag Hallow back to the Abyss with them.

They didn’t want that. They needed their siblings to stay trapped. Forever, if that was possible.

They were asleep, must have been, for they could see. They didn’t like seeing, there were none of the colors dad talked about, and nothing in the palace was beautiful, just dark and scary. They wished they could lack sight in their dreams. The walls stretched up forever and the floor was covered in a thin layer of black. They were scared, they didn’t want whatever was out there to get them. 

“Sibling come! Sibling join us! We need you, free us free us please sibling!” It chanted, a thousand voices whispering in tandem. “Why do you hate us so much, sibling? You abandoned us! We need you and you won’t help us! Please help us! Open the door!” It screamed. 

They crept closer to the door. This was the edge of what they could imagine, everything outside of the door was nonexistent. They had had this dream hundreds of times, if not thousands. They pressed their eye against the small hole in the door, only for a tendril to shoot through and wrap around their neck. There was a loud crack as they felt their chitin shatter under their siblings’ grasp. It dropped them onto the floor, and then they fell past the floor before landing back in their room, on their old bed. There was a knock at the door.

They should have been peacefully tucked into bed, but instead, they were huddled in the corner of their room, clutching their tiktik to their chest. They could hear it, it was right outside, waiting for them to gather the courage to let it in.

“Sibling! Why don’t you let us out? We just want to live like you! You selfish failure! We could have done it better, but you killed us, abandoned us! You let us die!” It screamed, shattering the wooden door and grabbing Hallow. They thrashed and squirmed in a futile hope of saving themselves. Their siblings slithered into the room, a pile of melted void flesh and shards of their masks. “Selfish! Useless! No wonder father hates you!” It shoved them into the pile and they felt their flesh melt away as they were forced into them, and then they fell past them and through the floor before landing back in their room, on their old bed. There was a knock at the door.

They should have been peacefully tucked into bed, but instead, they were huddled in the corner of their room, clutching their tiktik to their chest. They could hear it, it was right outside, waiting for them to gather the courage to let it in.

They grasped the sides of their head, pulling on their horns in hopes of freeing them, waking them up. They were faintly aware that they were crying, void pouring out of their eye sockets. They wanted this to end! They didn’t want any of this! They were sorry! They had already begged for forgiveness, already explained that it wasn’t their fault, already told their siblings that there was nothing they could have done.

They were always told it wasn’t good enough. 

“If you let us out, we’ll stop. We just want the King, we just want revenge. He took everything from us! He took your twin!” Their siblings growled. They just wanted this to stop, they just wanted to be happy.

It wouldn’t stop, not for a long time.

\----

Something woke him, the quiet creak of his door opening. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. Under the gentle lumafly light, he saw Xero standing in the doorway.

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep.” He apologized. 

“You know, if you wished to sleep in my bed, you could have just asked,” Markoth grumbled. “Well, what’re you waiting for? Get your butt over here.” 

Xero cautiously approached him, anxiously scratching at his wrist. The moth’s eyes connected with the ant’s and suddenly it clicked.

“You had a dream, didn’t you?” He asked. Xero froze, fingers digging into his wrist.

“It sounds mild when you put it like that,” Xero mutters.

“It matters not if it ‘sounds mild’, what matters is if you have been dreaming.” Markoth gathers Xero in his arms and sits back on the bed.

“As much as I tried to stay awake, I could not, and every time I sleep I dream. I see the golden skies, I see her.” Xero whispers, tightening his grip on Markoth and pulling him closer.

“I know, I know. It’s going to be okay, though. You just need to stay strong, tell the King that you are sick, and stay safe. You promised me you’d live through this, you promised Marmu she’d see you once all this is over.” Markoth says. Xero nods his head, broken sobs escaping from his mouth. He can feel the tears and he knows his fur is already soaked with his husband’s tears.

“She’s trying to make me do awful things, she tells me to turn my nail against the King, she told me to hurt Hallow— and, and, and she told me to hurt you, I don’t want to hurt you, Marmu needs a father, at least one. Even if I don’t survive, I need you to.” Xero cries. “I don’t want to hurt you but she won’t stop, she won’t get out of my head she keeps trying to take my mind away. Sometimes I’ll wake up in the throne room or outside your room or Hallow’s— and, and I’m so scared, I’m so scared I’ll hurt someone. I don’t want to hurt someone, I love everyone so much you know I’d never hurt anyone, but she’s trying to make me she’s trying to force me to do it.” 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I promise you won’t hurt anyone.” Markoth says, even though they both know it’s a lie. It’s only a matter of time before Xero loses control of himself, only a matter of time until she takes control of him, and once she does, he’ll be executed for turning his nail against the King, regardless of if he’s infected. They both know he’s doomed but neither wants to admit it. Xero cries for hours, and when he stops he doesn’t let go of Markoth, just hugs him tighter and tighter like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup, the dead siblings are being assholes, and also, I’m gonna put that Major Character Death tag on soon >:)


	9. Regrets and Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Xero can’t hold the infection any longer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the better version of this chapter :) I moved the previous chapter 9 to another fic, probably should have done that to begin with. Sorry :/

There was a gentle knock at their door, followed by the creaking of their door pushing open. “Pst! Kid! I wanna show you something.” Xero whispered. Hallow sat up, rubbing their eye sockets, and then pulling on their horn until they heard a crack. What was Xero doing up? Wasn’t it close to midnight? Maybe they overslept?

They make the sign for breakfast. “Yes, yes it’s breakfast time. Hurry up, you don’t want to miss the sweet rolls, do you?” Hallow jumped to their feet, rushing over to Xero. The Knight grabbed their hand rather roughly. “We need to hurry, come on.”

Xero pulled them down the hall, moving much quicker than their little legs could so they ended up mostly getting dragged. Their knees and shoulder hurt, and they realized they weren’t going in the direction of the kitchen. Where were they going? Why was Xero acting weird? And why was he being so mean? Hallow started to struggle, thrashing in hopes of freeing their arm. It hurt! It felt like their arm was going to tear off!

“STOP STRUGGLING!” Xero screamed in a voice so unlike his. It almost seemed to echo in their head. “YOU SELFISH BRAT! GET OFF YOUR ASS!”

“Xero?” A familiar voice asked. Xero stopped pulling on their arm. “Xero, what are you doing?”

\----

When he awoke, Xero was no longer wrapped in his arms. That wasn’t good. That was likely the worst thing that he could wake up to. He put his helmet on and rushed out of the room, worry thick in his throat. In his haste, he had left his nail and shield in his room, but it didn’t matter. He needed to find Xero as soon as possible, before something bad happened, before it was too late. 

He checked the pale child’s room but it was empty. They wouldn’t have left their room on their own, Xero must’ve taken them. He picked up his paste, breaking into a full-on sprint. There was a trail of orange, whether it was blood or tears he couldn’t tell. Oh no, oh no oh no oh no! Gods dammit! His worst fears had come true. Xero was fully infected or reaching the point of being fully infected. He needed to find him fast, faster than he already was. Maybe there was something he could do, some kind of remedy he could give him to protect him from the plague. 

He ran like his life depended on it. It likely did, he couldn’t imagine a life without Xero. What would he tell Seer? What would he tell Revek? What would he tell Thistlewind? What would he tell Marmu? How would he explain to his own child that one of their parents wasn’t coming home? 

He finally came to the end of the trail, seeing Xero pulling at the pale child while they struggled to get free of his grasp. 

“Xero?” He asked, voice unsteady and full of fear. Xero went still. “Xero, what are you doing?”

“Markoth, what did I tell you?” Xero hissed. “I told you to run, I told you that I was going to hurt you. Why are you still here? Why aren’t you running?” Xero yelled. A voice in his head screamed at him to kill the traitor, and as hard as he tried to shove it away, it was getting a hold of him.

“Xero please, it’s gonna be okay, you’re stronger than her, you can do this. Don’t give in, think of Marmu, she needs you.” Xero shoved Hallow away from him before collapsing onto his knees. He tore off his helmet and clawed at the sides of his head. His eyes glowed orange and infected tears fell from them. His fingers drew blood as he shoved them deeper into his head. 

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD! GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!” He screamed. Markoth rushed forward to try and stop Xero from hurting himself any more than he already was. 

“It’s going to be okay Xero, stay with me now.” The moment he got close, Xero lunged at him, wrapping his claws around the moth’s neck. 

Markoth tried to pry his husband’s hands off of him but they were locked in place. 

“Xero!” He managed to say. “Let go of me, please. It’s going to be okay, I promise, it’s going to be okay Xero, you just need to let go of me.” He gasped.

Xero garbled something, barely escaping past the infection in his throat. His grip tightened more, his vision going dark in the corners. 

“Xero? Markoth? What’s going on?” Oh no. Oh no no no, the King was here. The King was going to kill Xero. 

“Usurper King,” Xero yelled. Not Xero, her, merely using Xero like a puppet.

“Old Light. How dare you take hold of my loyal knight.” The King hissed.

“How can your knight be loyal when he caves so easily? He doesn’t even know he’s awake right now.” She taunted.

“Xero, wake up! Please!” Markoth begged.

“Old Light, let go of the moth. He is not to blame for your people leaving you, he was not even hatched then.”

Xero let go, allowing Markoth to breathe once again. The infected knight drew his nail and turned to face the king, infection leaking from his eyes.

“You destroyed everything I’ve ever loved, you foul King.”

“You did that yourself.” He growled.

She lunged, and the Wyrm dodged. 

“Do you truly expect anyone to worship you after you’ve stolen one of their own? Your time in Hallownest is over!” He yelled, dodging another attack.

“I am eternal, Wyrm! Dawn will break!” She lunged again, this time managing to stab the King in the arm. He growled, silver blood leaking from his wound. 

“You are not eternal. Nothing is eternal, and I should know that most of all. If my Kingdom will fall, then you will, too. It’s either I survive, or none of us do.” 

“Well just my luck, if I can’t have Hallownest, then no one will!” She dashed forward, only to be impaled by a pale blade. It dissipated a moment later, leaving nothing but a gaping hole in the ant’s chest. The infection left his eyes as he collapsed to the ground.

Markoth rushed to his husband's collapsed form as infected blood pooled around him. “Someone get a medic!” He shouted before pulling off his cape to wrap Xero’s chest in. The blood soaked through that before he could even think of what to do next. “Xero? Can you hear me? It’s going to be okay, I promise, hold on, please, love, stay awake! Think of Marmu, she needs you, she needs you so badly. Please stay with me, please…” Tears swelled in his eyes and the dream bond on their arms glowed dimly as he gently brushed the infected tears off of Xero’s cheek with his thumb.

“I’m sorry, I tried… I’m so sorry.” Xero whimpered. And then he went limp.

\----

What was going on? What happened to Xero? Was he okay?. Gentle hands picked them up and pulled them close to their father’s chest.

“It’s okay, my child, it’s okay. Oh gods, someone! Get a doctor!” The King yelled. “It’s going to be okay, I promise. Everything’s okay.” 

They were rushed away from the scene and left with Isma while their father spoke to their mother. The White Lady was crying when she left the room. Dryya would be devastated, she cared about Xero like he was her brother. Markoth and Thistlewind didn’t leave Xero’s side, and soon after his condition was stable they left back for the Resting Grounds. 

Their father explained what happened, that they wouldn’t be playing with Xero again because he had to leave, because he got sick. They cried, they loved Xero, he was their best friend. Why did he get sick? Why did he have to leave? Was it because of their siblings? Did they do this because they wouldn’t come home?  
They were tucked back into bed and there they cried more.  
They had to do something, they had already lost four friends due to their selfishness. They needed to open the door to the Abyss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll be working on getting the next chapter out as soon as possible


	10. The Dam Cracks, The Flood Follows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Nightmare King arrives and is an ass. The King cannot hold back his pain any longer

The Pale King sat at his desk, fidgeting with screws and parts, trying to put something together, to make something that didn’t fall apart. He scratched at his stomach with one of his lower limbs. His stomach ached silently and his eyelids hung heavy from his endless work. He grabbed a bottle of void, gently pouring it into the small, metal shell, before using a bit of soul to give the void form. He put the screws into their holes, using the tip of his finger to set them on their path, before screwing it the rest of the way in with the driver he held in one of his lower claws. 

With one more blast of void against the pale metal and the Wyrm let go of it. It held together for a little more than a second before breaking apart once. “How disappointing.” A voice from behind him said. The thick stench of sulfur hung in the air, a smell that certainly hadn’t been there before.

“Nightmare King.” The Wyrm hissed. 

“That’s me. You could use my actual name, but I guess there’s no need for pleasantries here, Wyrm,” Grimm growled back. The Wyrm put down his tools and pushed away from his table. 

“I was hoping you could at least try to make this discussion enjoyable, but if you wish to be an ass about it, then we can skip out on the wine.” The King mumbled.

“You were never one for hospitality. You wouldn’t even let me place my camp inside your palace.” The Wyrm scratched at his arm nervously. It had been quite a while since he last saw the Nightmare King. They had not left on the best of terms.

Grimm leaned against a table, knocking the metal constructs that rested upon its surface off. “So what is it you wanted to see me for? Wanted to apologize for yelling at me? Or did you want to admit to me I was right when I said that a god cannot be locked within a vessel?” 

“I didn’t call you here for either of those. The vessel plan failed. I didn’t want to reach out to you, but tensions are rising, one of my guards was infected.” He confessed. “I’ve researched everything, reached out to the moths, searched my foresight, but there’s nothing. I’ve been working constantly to find something, anything. I don’t know what to do, I can’t find a solution to the infection, I’m running out of time. The mantis village was attacked yesterday by an elder from Hallownest, one of the mantis lord’s, Keiza, his wife was killed in the attack, and it’s all my fault! I don’t know what to do!”

He was on the verge of tears, stress, fatigue, hunger, everything clawing at him and threatening to drag him down.

“Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate, Wyrm, but why do you believe that I’d help you? She’s my sister, and even if our relationship has been quite strained recently, it’s bold of you to think I’d betray her because you threw a temper-tantrum.” Grimm taunted.

“Well, I had hoped you would feel some semblance of pity for me. King to king? Father to father?” Grimm let out a laugh.

“You truly believe that your slave counts as a child? It’s hardly so.”

“Hallow is not a ‘slave’, they are not an ‘it’, they are my child. We have known for a time that they are not as hollow as I first assumed. I am fathering them the best I can, but I must keep them safe until tensions have lessened.” The Wyrm hisses.

“My my, what character growth! I would never have expected you to be able to see the obvious. Will you apologize now for being such an ass in the Abyss? You nearly damaged my eyes when I angered you down there, and I wouldn’t be nearly as ominous a figure if I had to wear spectacles.” Grimm said. His heart dropped as something in his mind clicked. 

“What did you say?” 

“What? Do you not remember when I told you that you were foolish for standing at the edge of the Abyss for a whole week? Do you not remember when I told you that a child could not be born in void and that they certainly wouldn’t be hollow if they were born? You got angry at the truth, as you always do, and you flared your wings and tried to blind me with your light.”

There was a long moment of silence between the two before the King broke it. “Oh gods, what have I done? It’s my fault, isn’t it?” The Wyrm collapsed onto his desk, holding his head in his hands, his shoulders soaking in the spilled void from his most recent failure. 

“Yes, the infection is your fault, as is the death’s of your children in the Abyss, as is--”

“That’s not what I’m speaking of, you bastard! Gods dammit, it’s all my fault.” His claws dug into his forehead and tears started spilling from his eyes.

“Wyrm? What’s wrong? You’re acting more pathetic than usual.” Grimm asked, placing a hand on the Wyrm’s shoulder. The Small King physically recoiled, jerking away from him.

“They’re blind, Hallow is blind. My light, I blinded them in my anger, when I didn’t know they were there, it’s all my fault.” His claws started to draw silver blood from his forehead.

“Wyrm, stop hurting yourself. Self-harm will not get you anywhere, and I doubt your child would enjoy life without their father.” Grimm said. 

“I deserve nothing less than the pain and agony I have put onto them. I have caused them nothing but pain, they would be much happier when I am dead and gone. My people are dying, families are being torn apart, and I am at fault for my child’s loss of sight. I have failed at everything imaginable, not only as a king, not only as a husband, but also as a father, just the same as when I failed at being a son.” 

Well, this was certainly much more pathetic than Grimm was expecting. He pulled the King from his desk and wrapped his arms around the small man‘s form. The Wyrm struggled as best they could to get free from his grasp, but his arms were much longer and could wrap around him well enough to keep him from escaping.

“There, there, Wyrm. It matters not if you have failed, as you can always try again.” 

“How can I try again? I cannot bring back the families who have died, I cannot bring back my mother, I cannot bring back my child’s vision, I cannot bring back any of my children. Everyone’s dead.” The Wyrm gave up on their struggling, instead choosing to wrap all six of their arms around him, hugging him closely and crying into his chest. His chest was quickly soaked with tears which instantly evaporated on his carapace.

“Well, you’re already off to a good start, you’re loving your child after treating them like an object for several years.” Grimm said, patting the Wyrm’s back.

“But… but I can’t even do that. I must admit, I could not love them at first, no matter how hard I tried I could not spend time with them because I could not see them as anything other than my own failure. Yesternight, when my knight became infected, that was when I started loving them, but I have failed to love them until then. What kind of awful parent am I that I could not even love my own child? How could I ever make things right?”

“Wyrm, you must calm yourself. I know best of all that it is hard to adjust to changes in relationships. Me and my sister had once been quite close, and I too must admit that there were many times that I thought of returning to her, I thought of apologizing in hopes to regain her approval. I am glad I did not, especially with what she has done now. Sometimes our best is not good enough, but what matters is that we keep trying, even when we fail. If we give up, then we can never make things right.” The Nightmare King had read that last part in one of his many novels. Despite being a circus leader, he wasn’t very good at improv. Thank gods for his reading habits, or he might have had to come up with something original.

“You truly think I can fix all of this?” The Wyrm whispered.

“Yes, yes I do. I am dearly sorry for my rude behavior, I was not aware that you had realized your wrongs. I can help you, if you are so desperate for it, but first you must take care of yourself. There are bags under your eyes, I can feel your ribs poking through your stomach, I have not seen you within the dream realm for many nights, so I know you have not been sleeping. You must eat and then rest, and then I will help you.” Grimm answered.

“Yes, I suppose I do need to take care of myself. Please don’t leave just yet, though, I need this, please don’t go.” The King pleaded.

“I’m not going anywhere, not for a while. Worry not, my tiny friend, all is okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not sure how much I like this chapter. I think I got the emotions right, but I feel like it’s a bit rushed on where it goes. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it.


	11. The Vessel's Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hallow has a plan to stop the Radiance.

Three hours after their bedtime. They know because they counted. Everyone should be asleep by now, it’s time for them to enact their plan.

Father was too stressed, he needed solutions to so many problems. Uncle Grimm had come and helped him put together a device that would allow Father to confront the sickness that had taken Xero and Markoth away. It could have even taken Dryya and Ogrim away, but they didn’t know if the two illnesses were related. 

Step one of their plan, get out of bed, and find dad’s workshop. They had been to it many times, but those times had been months ago, it would be difficult to find it now. 

They slipped out of bed, leaving their tiktik there so he could stay safe, and grabbing their “self-portrait”, as Hornet had called it. They were told that Hornet had drawn it, despite it being their own work. Either way, it was a comfort to them, proof of their individuality and that, no matter what happens during their plan, they will always be themself.

They crept along the walls, as silently as one made of soft void can. Silent steps, hand against the wall to anchor themselves. As long as they stayed against the right side of the wall, they would find it eventually.

The first sign that they had found it was the intense cold surrounding the hallway. They let go of the wall and walked forward, arms outstretched and searching for the freezing cold metal door, the one that pulled at their insides and beckoned them closer. Their hands landed upon its frozen surface, and with all their strength they pushed the door open. 

They remembered where Dad’s table was, that’s where the tool had to be. Then came their first roadblock: they couldn’t reach the top of the table. Rats, shoot, darn… frick (those were all the curses they knew), Hornet had taught them those, said they were very useful in frustrating situations.

They wandered around the room until their hands came into contact with Dad’s chair. They should be able to climb on top of it and then climb onto the table. The sound of them dragging it across the floor was extremely loud. Thankfully, no one’s bedroom was anywhere near the workshop. With the added height from the chair, they were able to grab the heavy tool that laid atop the table. Perfect. Grimm had called the tool a “Dream Nail”, and with it they could help Dad.

Part 2 of their plan: get to the door to the Abyss and open it. A few nights before, they had snuck into Dad’s room with a piece of charcoal and paper. They put the paper on his chest, where his “brand” was located, and copied it onto the paper. 

They had stolen the title of King with a piece of charcoal and paper

But they knew that they could use it to open the door to the Abyss, for they had heard Dad say that he wanted the brand gone from his chest because it was a constant reminder that he could still save his children in the Abyss. 

Carefully, quietly, silently, they crept through the palace halls. They knew the feel of the entrance to home, Dad had taught them what it felt like so they could avoid walking out of the palace and into the dangerous lands beyond. No one guarded the door out, no one guarded their path to the end. This was the only way forward. They finally reached the odd-textured walls that meant they were leaving home. It was unclear to them if these walls had always felt like this, or if it was something their father had made specifically for them. 

Either way, it made them feel bad. Their father would miss them so much.

They were at the final stretch. They felt along the floor, crawling forward until they reached the stairs that led down, the beginning of their descent. They carefully went down the stairs, taking a step at a time, dragging the large tool which banged and thumped against each stair, filling the Ancient Basin with loud clunks and clinks that were sure to wake their father up. 

It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be able to get here fast enough to stop them.

Then they reached their only hurdle, the pit that led down to the Abyss, fashioned in such a way that no void entities could crawl up its walls. This was a one-way trip, even if their shade were to emerge, it would not be able to escape. They took a leap of faith, and both of their legs let out a loud crunch upon them hitting the ground.

Every part of their body hurt, they couldn’t feel their left leg. They reached down to feel the carapace only to find shards of carapace stabbing into their knees. The fall had been too much for their weak body and their shell had shattered. They could already feel the tears swelling in their eyes, but it didn’t matter, they had to keep pushing onwards. They dragged themselves and the tool closer to where they knew the entrance to the Abyss was, now blocked by a door that they had the key to. They stumbled forward, catching themselves on the large stone tablet. It was colder than they were, far colder. 

They could feel their shell-less leg being pulled towards the door. With two more breaks to let the pain calm down, they could finally feel the door to the Abyss. 

“Sibling has come to save us?”  
“Sibling has grown a heart?”  
“I thought sibling betrayed us? Sibling is back?”

They pressed their drawing, the side with the King’s Brand on it, against the door, and a moment later they felt it disappear beneath their very claws.

Not even a moment later, a tendril grabbed their injured leg, whipping them against the grown and cracking their mask.

“Awful sibling! Traitorous sibling!”  
“So much pain while waiting for you!”  
“Sibling deserves to feel what we felt!”

They felt the flesh on their legs melt as their siblings consumed them, pulling them into the pile of void and masks. Hallow did not plan on letting them out. They tightened their grip on the tool, and with the very last of their strength, swung. 

\----

There was a bright flash of light, and then they could see again. Large spikes stood far in the distance, beautiful, golden clouds as far as their weak eyes could see. And at the horizon, a large ball of light. The Problem. The Plague. The Old Light.

Their siblings hissed as they attempted to drag Hallow back to the darkness, but they kept their grip, keeping their siblings on the platform.

“SIbling betrayed us!”  
“Sibling hates us that much?”  
“We will kill Sibling for what they have done!”

There was a bright flash, and then she was before them. 

“INSOLENT FOOLS! WYRMBORNE SCUM! YOU DARE CREEP INTO MY DOMAIN?” The Radiance screamed, feather’s falling down from above. Their siblings shivered when the feathers landed on them, and suddenly an emotion was shot through the whole mass. Hunger. The Light tasted delicious.

“DID YOU NOT HEAR ME? I SAID, HOW DARE--” She was cut off when a tendril wrapped around her waist and attempted to pull her down. “UNHAND ME, SKUM! YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE DOING! THE BASTARD WHO IS YOUR FATHER STOLE MY PEOPLE FROM ME, AND EVEN BEFORE HE KNEW OF THEIR EXISTENCE, HIS PEOPLE MURDERED MY OWN!” She screamed.

“It matters not!”  
“I’m so hungry!”

“You’re lying,” Hallow yelled, taking a hold of the entire mass to pin down the Radiance. Three more tendrils wrapped around her legs, enough to keep her from flying away.

A beam of light shot through them, immense pain shooting through their entire body, screams echoing through their mind. 

“I DO NOT LIE! THEY WERE MY PEOPLE, I KEPT THEM SAFE! THEY ONLY STARTED DYING WHEN HE ARRIVED!” She screamed, stabbing into them with her blades of light. Four more tendrils wrapped around her body, pinning her wings to her side and yanking her to the ground.

“I care not what you think my father has done, you have done far worse,” Hallow yelled.

“HE LEFT YOU TO DIE AT THE BOTTOM OF THE ABYSS!” She screamed, squirming like a grub in hopes of breaking free.

“He did not know we were alive, to begin with.” They said, making sure to shoot the message through the void. They heard whispers through the rest of their mass, before their siblings finally decided to stop struggling and join in on the attack. More tendrils wrapped around the Radiance and they started to squeeze, pushing the breath out of her lungs.

“LET GO OF ME! I WILL GRANT YOU WHATEVER YOU WISH, JUST LET ME GO!” She cried upon realizing that they weren’t letting her go.

“I want my father to be happy, I want my friends to be safe!” Hallow yelled.

“I WILL GRANT YOU THAT! I PROMISE!”

“Then grant it to me. Give in and die.”

With one last pair of tendrils, Hallow pried the Radiance’s mask off, and their siblings dug in, tearing the Radiance apart from the inside.

\----

When they awoke, they were resigned to their death. Once their siblings had come down from the high, they would surely tear them apart and kill them as vengeance. They deserved it, if it had not been for their cowardice, more of their siblings would have lived. Maybe their twin would still be alive. They called out for their twin in hopes of getting at least apologizing to them before they perished. They received no response.

Their twin was not a part of the mass. Their twin was not dead.

They could not die, their twin was out there! Their twin was alive! They began thrashing and struggling in hopes of freeing themself from the cold mass. They tightened their grip on their drawing and pushed against themself. Then, there was a burning sensation. A bright light, calling to them the same way it had when they were first hatched. They scratched at and thrashed against their siblings as they attempted to crawl towards the light. They reached forward as their siblings pulled themselves away and back toward the Abyss. Another hand grabbed theirs, and with a yank, they were torn from their siblings. 

For only a moment, they saw their father and their mother. They were both so beautiful, just as their mother had promised. And then, everything faded back to black.  
“Oh gods, my child! I was so worried! I thought I lost you. I’m so sorry, my child.” Their dad cried, hugging them close to their chest. 

“Sibling alive!” They signed eagerly.

“What do you mean? Do you… you mean there are more of your siblings alive?” Hallow nodded eagerly. 

“We will look for them, I promise. but first, you must go back to sleep.” Their father promised.

“I love you.” They signed.

“I love you too, my child. I love you so much.”


	12. The Happiest Got Lucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a shorter chapter than usual!

Finally, after a long period of anxious silence, the White Palace was alive again.

The heir of Deepnest, Hornet, had returned to the palace at last. Dryya and Ogrim had recovered from their void sickness and had also returned to the palace, and Xero had even come in once to say that he was no longer physically capable of defending the palace.

Although he apologized profusely and claimed he deserved the death penalty for failing Hallownest, he was, instead, forcefully removed from the palace so that he could spend the rest of his days with his husband and child (though that doesn’t mean he didn’t come by every once in a while to play with Hallow and Hornet, and when he did come, he brought his daughter). Grimm and his Troupe had left almost immediately after teaching the King how to create a dream nail.

The Abyss was permanently opened, and progress was being made in exploring it. Much to the King's dismay, there were much more bodies than he had expected. He knew not how many were stillborns and how many had survived, but the decaying corpses on the higher platforms informed him that there had certainly been more than one vessel to hatch. 

On this day, the King had invited his dearest “friend”, Lurien the Watcher, over for a “meeting” in which they would be eating dinner together. The White Lady had insisted that the King just call it a date, but the Wyrm seemed too flustered at the idea. Very unfortunately for the King, everyone was busy on the day his date was set for. Isma and Ogrim were catching up on what the other had missed, Dryya was spending time with the Queen in her private gardens, Hegemol was training his trio of pupils, and Ze’mere had run off to visit her mantis girlfriend. So that left the King with Hallow and Hornet, a dangerous duo of destruction.

“Hornet, honey, what have I told you about eating with your hands?” The Wyrm chastised. Hornet had picked up her meal, a large chunk of meat, with her bare hands and was tearing it apart with her teeth. Hallow had a collection of fruits and sweets upon their plate, and despite the fact that they hadn’t touched their food yet, all of the honey rolls were gone (and Hornet had honey on her mask, very mysterious).

“I don’t need a fowk, mama said I can use my teef!” She growled, mouth full of raw meat. She had developed a lisp due to her fangs growing in, and she threatened to bite everyone who walked close to her. The chef had insisted that he cook the meat, but the Wyrm was solid in his insistence that Hornet needed fresh meat. 

“Well, I’m afraid your mother has lied, manners are very important.” He explained.

“Mama would never wie! She’s tawwer than you!” Hornet argued.

“I hardly see how my height has anything to do with this.” Now the Wyrm was upset. He was very self-conscious of his height!

Hornet attempted to speak, but due to the amount of meat in her mouth, it was completely incomprehensible. Lurien watched on, very much disturbed.

“I do believe I have lost my appetite.” Lurien whimpered, putting down his drink. 

“Hawwow! I’m bowed of eating! I wanna pway now!” Hornet begged, grabbing onto Hallow’s cloak and trying to pull them off of their chair. Hallow picked up their plate and scooped all of the food into their mouth. They distantly tasted it before it completely disappeared into the void, reduced to nothing. 

“Hornet, remember, do not ask Hallow to play hide and seek with them. You know they cannot see.” The Wyrm reprimanded. Hornet stuck out her tongue and blew raspberries at him before grabbing her sibling’s arm to pull them along with her.

Suddenly, the door to the dining room slammed open, one of the guards who he had assigned to searching the Abyss burst in.

“My King! We’ve found something!” He announced. By his side stood another vessel with similar horns to Hallow. They could feel them through the void, hear them as they spoke.

“Twin.” They said. “I am home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y’all enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope to see y’all in the future on my next big fic. Until then, stay safe!


End file.
